There once was a monkey
Swinging through the trees
Where the pale white moon light
Shown down on the bushes made of cheese.
The monkey stopped and hung, listless.
Though he lived in a world of fantasy,
The poor little monkey couldn’t be appeased.
The monkey was so unbearably lonely.
He tried to befriend the yellow turtles at the stream,
But they hid in their shells for the rest of the day.
He attempted conversation with the fluffy caterpillars,
But they all sneered and inched away.
It seemed no one wanted him,
So he hung in the tree and gazed at the skies.
There was nothing better for him to do.
He could find nothing friendly that walks, swims or flies.
Suddenly the monkey jumped down from the tree.
There was no one in the foliage so he took to the ground.
He headed off in the direction of nowhere.
If there was a friend to find then they would be found!
He wandered past the stream and the trees.
Soon he was in a land that appeared new.
He searched through the place, everywhere it seemed,
Still he found no one to talk to and nothing to do.
He was saddened but not completely discouraged,
So he continued on toward the mountains and valleys.
He arrived and found it a frightful place
Where night is vast and sun rise long dallies.
The monkey shivered and hid in fear of this new scene.
He imagined the giant purple banana creatures of lore giving chase.
“Then again,” he thought, “Who cares if they do?
I mean nothing, I could leave this world without a trace.
“The sun would still shine, the birds still sing.
Things would be happier if I were gone,
Myself included, since I make no difference.
But no,” thought the monkey, “I have to go on.”
He poked out from his concealing shadows.
He noticed the sun start to gleam over the hills.
It began to lighten the darkness that lorded over the land,
Yet there was still a cold breeze bringing him chills.
He got up and ran from that place.
He ran until the mountains were far behind.
He ran until he forgot they existed.
Then he remembered his mission, he had friends to find.
But the more he thought, “How will friends change things?”
The more he realized he had someone to talk to.
He knew now, someone had followed his journey all night.
Someone had been there the whole time to see him through.
“I’ll talk to myself,” said the monkey,
As he ran off jabbering into the dying night.
“I don’t need friends to talk and be happy.
As long as I’ve got me, things will be all right!”
